Gravedust conversation
by unforgivable curse caster
Summary: How things might have been different with a change in just one line of 'Once more with Feeling' Oneshot.


How everything might have changed if one line in 'Once more with Feeling' were different.

I own nothing, but if I did, you can bet your arse Buffy and Spike would have ended up together. Comics be damned. Cannon compliant up until the very end of 'Once more with Feeling'. Just a oneshot, may do a second chapter or follow up if I get enough reviews.

"I touch the fire and it freezes me"

"I died…"

"I look into it and its black"

"So many years ago…"

"You make me feel, but I cant trust that this is real"

"Where do we go from here?"

TWO DAYS LATER

Restfield had never seemed so…restful. And restfulness was not of the good. A restful Restfield meant a bored Buffy, and a bored Buffy led to bad thoughts of bleached vampires who had been conspicuously scarce the past few days…since The Incident. Not that it was a big enough deal to inspire being capital T in The capital I in incident right? People kiss people they don't like all the time right? And she didn't like Spike, right? Certainly didn't like him enough to be considering a midnight run through his part of the cemetery to see if he was home. No, that was ridiculous.

"Vampire, evil, mean, soulless creature of the night" Somehow, it sounded so much better in her head, so much more firm and convincing.

"Nice to know you still regard me fondly pet" The scent of cigarette smoke matched the orange glow in the dark. "Thinking of me then?" Spike smirked, voice lowered, taking on that slightly apprehensive, hopeful tone he'd so often adopted after she crawled out of her grave. "Nope, plenty of other soulless evil vampires around" Buffy deadpanned, choosing to ignore Spike's hopeful glance.

"We need to talk Slayer, you know that wasn't nothing the other night, we kissed, tongues danced and tonsil's tangoed, don't deny it and don't tell me it didn't mean anything." Spike moved to block her escape route between two headstones and gently took put his hands on her shoulders "You said I made you feel, an' how could I do that if it didn't mean nothing?" His blue eyes probed her hazel ones, staring intensely into her face, that agonizingly hopeful look piercing her.

"I don't know what it meant" Buffy replied, trying to stick with something close to the truth, not wanting to give him any false hope, but unable to deny completely what he said. "You've been around lately, since I came back…while I was gone. That does mean something, I just don't know what that something is" Those blue eyes widened, his hands chafed her shoulders gently, almost driving the cold from her limbs. She couldn't remember being warm, not since she came back. It always seemed like she was freezing.

"You were there for Dawn, and after I came back, I told you about where I was, but maybe that was just one dead thing to another. Except I bet Drusilla didn't leave you to dig yourself out." Buffy shuddered, remembering the damp wood of her casket splintering underneath her fingers, digging into her hands and arms as she clawed desperately to the surface for air, half insane and convinced she had been relegated to some hell somewhere. "What part of insane didn't you get about Dru, pet?' Spike's words interrupted her thoughts "She sired you, then left you to dig yourself out?" Buffy was horrified, and sickly relieved that he had experienced the cold embrace of the grave just like she had.

"Said I needed to be reborn, suppose suffocation and baptism by topsoil was part of the birthing process." Spike's nightmares about that night had long ago faded, but now the memory resurfaced, clear as if it had been only a week ago, instead of more then a century. His best suit, the cloying smell of the grave dirt as it clogged his eyes and nose. His certainty that he would die before he reached the surface. And that victorious thrust of his hand into the open air, clawing himself up out of the muck, bits of wood and clods of dirt covering his best suit. Drusilla waiting for him, a smile on her face. "My William, you've been a good little boy, the stars say we shall have such fun" her voice like honey in his ears.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know." Buffy whispered, afraid to shake him from his revere.

"S'alright pet, was a long time ago." he replied, his arms dropping from her shoulders as he sat heavily on a headstone. She gingerly chose the headstone next to him and brought her knees up to her chest. "Does it get easier" her voice grew small, almost speaking to herself, and full of so much pain his undead heart broke for her.

"Yeah luv, it does. But you have to want it to get better" he brings the forgotten cigarette and takes a drag, filling his lungs with smoke and exhaling slowly through his nose. "You're not a creature of the light anymore pet, been tainted with darkness you have, up to you how you live with that. Can spend the rest'a your life denying it, or you can embrace it and learn to live a little different" he tried to gauge her reaction to his words, but she had turned her face away from him.

"They all expect me to go back to being pre-dead Buffy. Maybe I put a little too much on Giles and the others, but I cant just jump right back into where I was before I left." Her voice was tired, still small and she shook her head. "I don't even know if I'm the same person anymore, and I don't know how long I can keep pretending that I'm the Buffy they want."

"Pet, the scoobies, they're tryin to help an all, but I think you need'ta find out who you are now. Death changes you. Don't gotta run from it, better to accept it and find a way to live. Otherwise you'll spend your life being led around by the nose like a bloody cow to slaughter." "You've got a little darkness in you now pet, use it to your advantage" he stopped, seeing her turn to him with a small smile "Is this the part where you tell me I belong in the dark with you?" She asked, unfolding her knees from the headstone and looking at him with a hint of amusement.

"This is the part where I tell you that you're the one that gets to decide that pet. I love you, you know it. You could never have loved me before you died, to bright for that, to full of light and righteousness, don't know if you could ever love me now, but I think I understand you better then your Scoobies do. Love me or not, you still treat me like a man, an that's all I need- s'not all I want mind, but its all I need." he kept his voice even, knowing that if he scared her away, she may never come back to him. He watched the amusement slowly leave her face to be replaced with a thoughtful countenance.

Buffy's mind was rattled by Spike's words. Maybe he was right, maybe she came back a little darker then she left, a little more cynical, a little harder, and a little less sure of her own goodness. Was it a bad thing? Could she accept herself like this, would it get easier if she did, would her friends accept this less chipper, more even minded Buffy? More importantly, even if they didn't, could she keep pretending to be the girl she was before she went into her grave?

"I've gotta go, Dawn will be worried if I'm too late" Buffy got up from headstone, looked at Spike and smiled self consciously "I think we've still got mini marshmallows at the house if you'd walk a girl home for a cup of hot cocoa."

"I think I can do that pet." Spike gave her a gentle smile and slid from his perch, flicking his cigarette away and stepping on the still burning end.

Together, close, but not touching, they walked through the cemetery and headed towards Revello drive. Buffy didn't know if she could love Spike, or if she wanted to try, she had too much to think about, too much to find out about herself first. But she knew that until she was ready to find out, he would be there. And who knows? Maybe she did need a little monster in her man.

-FIN-


End file.
